Hidden from Duties
by Rachel McN
Summary: The family medic has a breakdown in private


**A/N:** Wow, I've been away for far too long. Oops. Just...life, you know. Wonder if anyone still cares at this point xD Regardless, I found some documents on my computer that were never posted. So let's clear these out, yeah? Still been reading/faving/alerting, branching out my fandom interests, and like to think I might have learned/picked up the odd thing from reading those with great writing skills and ideas. I'll tidy up my old stories, dust off these files and post them before I lose nerve (again) and maybe write out some of the ideas that keep swimming round my head but don't get the justice of writing they deserve (just a quick note jotted down to keep them alive). If anyone's still interested, then...wow, what did I do to deserve people like you? And to any new readers; hello, welcome, thanks for popping on by and I hope to see you around again ^^  
>Any and all criticsm and advice is welcome, I think I'd like to start taking my writing more seriously now that I have a calm(ish) period of my life right now, so show me what you got!<p>

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><p>The room was in darkness.<p>

It's door inched open, and a figure stumbled in, cowering away from the light it came from.

Blindly, the figure reached out as it staggered further into the room.

Its fingers brushed the soft fabric of a blanket, and tightened as the figure dropped with a light thud to its knees.

Hinges pulled at the door, tugging it back into its closed position.

Darkness again.

The figure huddled into itself, pulling the blanket down over it, around itself.

Hiding in the warm, safe fabric.

Shielding itself from the world with its pathetic excuse for a cover.

A soft whimper escaped its lips, quieting to a small whine.

It felt safe in this darkness, with its fragile shield.

Safer than it had since its own shield had been shattered.

The only light shown was a small sliver from under the doorframe.

The figure shrank from the presence of light.

Scared the light would pull him back.

Scared the light would show the others where he was.

Scared the light would rip his shield of dark and blanket from him.

Padding feet passed outside.

They didn't stop, didn't pause.

He was hidden.

Hidden from screams; from shouts and pleas.

Hidden from his own fear and pain.

None of it could find him here.

None of it could hurt him here, not while he hid.

He pulled the blanket over his head, breathing in the familiar, comforting smell.

The smell of his brother.

His brother they all expected him to save.

A shiver passed down his spine, causing a voiceless gasp to escape him.

More feet passed.

Voices now.

Talking.

Questioning.

Wondering where he was.

Why he wasn't where he _should_ be; by his brother's side, doing what he could to save the precious life.

He wondered that too.

Then the door creaked on its hinges, allowing light to fall on him, and he remembered.

Remembered the cry, the convulsions.

The silent begging plea in his brother's eyes.

Remembered panic overwhelming him.

Fleeing.

Running.

Away.

As long as he was away.

And now they were going to try to bring him back.

A sharp cry escapes him as another's hand grabs his arm.

He struggles, kicks.

Harsh words.

They want to know why he left, why he's letting his brother die.

Want to know why he's hiding, why he's not doing more.

They don't realize he's done more than he can.

More than should ever have been asked of him.

His throat won't work, and they want answers.

Downstairs, his brother lies.

Pulse slowing; breathing softening.

His life lingering by a thread.

A thread that wears thinner with each passing second.

They pull him to his feet, dragging, pushing him towards the door.

They have no time to feel his pain; their own already overwhelms them.

He imagines himself trying to hold the two pieces of frayed thread together.

Imagines the silken thread slipping from his hands, grasping for it, chasing it to the end of everything.

Time slows for him; he feels each beat of his racing heart slamming into him, pushing him closer to the edge until he'll topple over into the abyss.

The heavy weight of light lands on his shoulders, and he presses back, shuddering.

They push him forward; pleading tones to their voices.

He's the only one, they tell him, the only one who knows what to do, how to heal.

He shakes his head furiously as they pull him out further.

No, he can't even hold his own thread together, he has no hands to spare in order to grasp for another.

Tendrils of dark strain, but he is beyond their reach.

The darkness can no longer protect and hide him.

The last creature leaves, the door swinging shut, blocking out the pleading voices and silent tears.

The dark haven is empty once again.

The blanket gently floats down to rest on the cold empty floor.

He has left his shield, his last defence, behind.


End file.
